coronet raze once i bought a vintage typewriter from a liar. the cartridge it came with was dead. so for three years it slept on a desk i don't sit at anymore, loved but unused. close cousin to the inherited beater i bent to my will as a child. same scent carried on its steady breathing. beige skin to supersede what was dull turquoise in_another_life. after i made up my mind to get what i needed and the missing mouthpiece came in the mail, i tried loading it the way i thought it would move into me to fill what i lack. manipulated platen and paper finger until everything was as straight as i could make it. and still the typebars wouldn't strike the ribbon when i shifted into second gear. it was a simple error of direction. side-entry got it done. everything snapped into place. easy as you like. now that we two are one, our first order of business is firing a full quiver of arrows at madison avenue from more than six hundred miles away. apologies in advance to any civilian or sentient square of sidewalk struck by mistake along the way. my aim ain't what it used to be. 240926 what's it to you? who go blather from